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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28163385">is forever enough?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkwordytome/pseuds/talkwordytome'>talkwordytome</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>soft lesbean ratched sickfics [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ratched (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bath, Caretaker Gwendolyn, Cuddling, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Mildred Ratched Needs a Hug, Sick Mildred, Sickfic, Sweet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:29:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28163385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkwordytome/pseuds/talkwordytome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>While Mildred locates tea and sets the kettle to boil, Gwendolyn gets busy. She fills the bathtub with hot water, the steam curling in graceful arcs up towards the ceiling. She adds two cups of dried goat’s milk, a few sprigs of lavender, drops of eucalyptus oil, and a dash of honey. She sets her mind to enveloping Mildred in a soft, fragrant cloud of love; she sets her mind to taking care of Mildred the way she always should’ve been, if the world weren’t so ugly and cruel.</i>
</p><p>in which Mildred is sick for the first time since she &amp; Gwendolyn have been together, and Gwendolyn has BIG plans for making her love feel better.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>soft lesbean ratched sickfics [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this truly is almost absurdly sweet and soft but y'know what? I'm not sorry about it.</p><p>rated Teen for some nakey bathtub time</p><p>title comes from the song "Lullaby" by The Chicks</p><p>if you are interested in listening to the music I am often listening to as I write, here is my <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4lPMeHN0DGlKjCuC4V34Lp?si=-py2G8xsRfaH0HSqmdxyVA=%22nofollow%22">Spotify playlist!</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s quarter to seven, dark and cold and just starting to rain, when the lock clicks and the front door opens. Gwendolyn, who is tucked away in her office as she works on building a new timetable, looks up when she hears the noise and smiles. She lives for that sound. It means that Mildred is home.</p><p>It’s been two weeks since Mildred appeared in Gwendolyn’s living room and confessed how she felt. It’s been two weeks since Mildred closed the gap between them and kissed Gwendolyn; it’s been two weeks since she kissed Mildred back. Sometimes Gwendolyn feels as though she must be living in a fairytale, that perhaps a witch has placed a spell on her, or she’s fallen asleep in an enchanted field. That one morning she’ll open her eyes and discover she’s alone in bed, the fading warmth on the mattress and the faintest whiff of perfume the only proof someone she adored had just been lying next to her. <i>Once upon a dream</i>.</p><p>But it’s not a dream. She can hear Mildred close the door and remove her shoes. Gwendolyn blinks and covers her smile with an uncertain hand.</p><p>She makes her way into the foyer, where Mildred is standing as she sheds her outer layers. Her red hair and her coat are both misted with raindrops that are beginning to glow in the warm light. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose are pink from the cold. When she offers Gwendolyn a smile it’s genuine, though also, Gwendolyn notes, decidedly tired. Gwendolyn desperately wants to cuddle Mildred until that weariness falls away.</p><p>“Darling,” Gwendolyn says. She opens her arms.</p><p>Mildred gratefully falls into them, and for a moment Gwendolyn very nearly feels afraid, as she always does; nearly afraid of being granted such a scandalous privilege, the permission to be pressed up against this lovely creature who smells of peaches and rosemary. </p><p>“Hi,” Mildred breathes, eyes closed. “I missed you.”</p><p>Gwendolyn leans in to give Mildred a kiss, but Mildred stiffens in her arms. She pulls out of Gwendolyn’s embrace, and takes a few steps backwards. A queer look passes over her face. Gwendolyn quirks an eyebrow, curious and concerned both.</p><p>“Sweetheart?” she asks. “Are you—?”</p><p>Gwendolyn’s question, though, is answered even before it’s voiced. Mildred’s nose twitches and her eyes flutter shut. She turns to the side, bends into her elbow, and sneezes three times. </p><p>“Bless you,” Gwendolyn says, half-laughing, as Mildred sniffles her way back to composure. “Goodness, so many sneezes for such a small person! Alright there?”</p><p>Mildred pulls a delicate lace-edged handkerchief from the pocket of her nurse’s uniform. She softly blows her nose. Her expression is hazy, as though she hasn’t yet decided if she’s done sneezing or not. She sniffs. “Thank you,” she finally says, and it occurs to Gwendolyn that she sounds awfully stuffy. “I’ve been doing that all day. It’s spectacularly annoying, really.”</p><p>Gwendolyn’s smile immediately turns into a pout. “Oh, honey,” she says. “I’m so sorry. Are you coming down with something?”</p><p>Mildred sighs and presses her left hand against her temple. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her right. “There’s been something going around the hospital,” she grudgingly admits. “I think it may have finally caught up with me.”</p><p>“Poor baby,” Gwendolyn says sympathetically. </p><p>At least, she <i>thinks</i> she says it sympathetically. But perhaps not, because Mildred’s neck flushes and she eyes Gwendolyn with thinly disguised hurt. She rubs her nose and sniffles. “You <i>asked</i>,” she mutters, glaring. “There’s no reason to make fun of me.”</p><p>Gwendolyn furrows her brow. “I’m not making fun, sweets,” she says gently. “I truly <i>am</i> so sorry you don’t feel well.”</p><p>Mildred’s tense, angry posture loosens ever so slightly, but Gwendolyn can tell that she isn’t quite yet mollified. Mildred crosses her arms and purses her lips. “Are you really?” she asks suspiciously.</p><p>“Of course I am,” Gwendolyn says, bemused by this sudden change in the atmosphere between them. “Why wouldn’t I be?”</p><p>Mildred fidgets uncomfortably. She swallows. “The way you said it,” she says without meeting Gwendolyn’s eyes. “It—I thought…I thought you were teasing me for…for complaining about not feeling well. That you thought I was being dramatic or—or childish, somehow.”</p><p>“Dramatic?” Gwendolyn repeats. “Darling, <i>no</i>; not even for a second, not <i>ever</i>.”</p><p>She holds out her arms again. “Come here,” she says. “Please?”</p><p>Mildred hesitates for a moment before she steps forward and allows herself to be embraced. She tucks her face into Gwendolyn’s neck and sighs. Her breath is warm and tickling on Gwendolyn’s skin. Gwendolyn kisses the top of Mildred’s head and basks for a moment in the faint scents of sweat and shampoo.</p><p>“What do you need?” Gwendolyn asks once they break apart. “How can I help you feel better?”</p><p>Mildred rubs her eyes with the back of her wrist and sniffles. She really is terribly pale, and she looks just knackered. Gwendolyn has never seen Mildred ill before, and whatever she has seems to be hitting her hard and fast. Mildred is never one to do anything by halves, Gwendolyn has quickly learned, and apparently getting sick is no exception to that rule.</p><p>Mildred sighs. “All I really want is tea,” she says, “and then bed. I’m hoping I might be able to sleep this off.”</p><p>Gwendolyn doubts that hope will come to fruition, but she chooses not to express that sentiment. She kisses Mildred’s forehead, surreptitiously checking to see if she has a fever. She thinks she might be a bit warm, but she’s not certain. </p><p>“Go make your tea,” Gwendolyn says. “Then come upstairs for a surprise.”</p><p>“<i>Gwendolyn</i>,” Mildred says, a note of warning in her voice.</p><p>“I know you’re not a fan of surprises,” Gwendolyn says, “but you’ll like this one. I promise.”</p><p>Mildred looks as though she wants to continue arguing, but irritation flashes across her face instead. She just manages to get her handkerchief to her nose to catch another three sneezes. She whines when she’s done, her hands clutching at her sides, like they ache.</p><p>Gwendolyn all but pushes Mildred in the direction of the kitchen. “Tea,” she commands, “<i>now</i>. I think there’s mint in the pantry, which should help with congestion. Meet me in the master bathroom when you’re finished.”</p><p>While Mildred locates tea and sets the kettle to boil, Gwendolyn gets busy. She fills the bathtub with hot water, the steam curling in graceful arcs up towards the ceiling. She adds two cups of dried goat’s milk, a few sprigs of lavender, drops of eucalyptus oil, and a dash of honey. She sets her mind to enveloping Mildred in a soft, fragrant cloud of love; she sets her mind to taking care of Mildred the way she always should’ve been, if the world weren’t so ugly and cruel. </p><p>The final touches are candles and jasmine petals sprinkled across the surface of the water. Gwendolyn removes her own clothes and leaves them in the hamper, then changes into her bathrobe. She pulls her hair into a loose bun and washes off her make-up. She examines her reflection closely in the mirror: bare faced, the cinnamon colored freckles sprinkled across her nose stand out, and so do the laugh lines around her eyes. <i>I look damn good for nearly forty-seven</i>, Gwendolyn thinks, and she smiles.</p><p>Someone clears their throat, shaking Gwendolyn out of her reverie.</p><p>Gwendolyn whips around. Mildred is standing in the doorway, clutching a mug of tea in both hands. She raises her eyebrows and offers Gwendolyn a half-smile that’s teasing and questioning in turns. Gwendolyn, all at once, feels very shy. She bites her bottom lip, unconsciously mirroring one of Mildred’s habits. </p><p>“I thought a bath might make you feel a bit more relaxed,” Gwendolyn explains. “And I also thought, maybe, I might, well…” she trails off, gesturing at her robe.</p><p>Mildred sets her tea down on the counter. She moves closer to Gwendolyn, wraps her arms around her waist, and kisses her, long and sweet and slow. “If you <i>weren’t</i> planning on joining me,” Mildred says, “I would <i>demand</i> that you do.”</p><p>Gwendolyn knows perfectly well that the husky quality to Mildred’s voice is due to her burgeoning cold, but she can’t help the quick burst of arousal that shoots through her upon hearing it. She blushes. “Get out of those clothes,” she growls. “<i>Now</i>.”</p><p>Mildred giggles. “Yes ma’am.”</p><p>Gwendolyn eases herself into the tub first. She watches with no small amount of appreciation as Mildred removes her dress and reveals the smooth plane of her back. Her slip comes off next, then her brassiere. She unhooks her garter belt and slips off her panties. She neatly folds each item before leaving them in the laundry hamper, a small act that fills Gwendolyn with such profound affection that she’s not even sure where to put it all. </p><p>The milky water laps at Mildred’s pale skin as she slides into the tub, entwining her legs with Gwendolyn’s and humming as the warmth sinks into her sore bones. Gwendolyn, for her part, is frozen with her eyes fixed on the place where the water meets the lower curve of Mildred’s breast.</p><p>“Gwen?” Mildred says softly.</p><p>Gwendolyn starts, blinking. “Sorry, darling,” she mumbles, fighting a smile, aware that she’s been caught staring. “You’re just so…<i>soft</i>. And lovely.”</p><p>Mildred’s cheeks, already pink from the hot bathwater, go even pinker. She waves Gwendolyn’s compliment away and covers her face with her hands. After a moment, she spreads her fingers apart to peek out. “Am I really?” she asks.</p><p>“<i>Yes</i>,” Gwendolyn says firmly. </p><p>Gwendolyn pulls on Mildred until Mildred is sitting between her legs and leaning back against her chest. She shields Mildred’s eyes with one hand and pours warm water over Mildred’s hair. She squeezes a bit of shampoo into her palm, then pauses. “Is it alright if I wash your hair?” she asks.</p><p>“It’s more than alright,” Mildred sighs, sounding drowsy.</p><p>Gwendolyn takes her time, making sure to use special care when she gets to any tangles. She massages the shampoo down into Mildred’s roots. She ends with cream rinse, gently scratching Mildred’s scalp as she uses her fingers to smooth it through the coppery strands. When she finishes, she reaches behind her for a salve made of rosemary and peppermint she bought at the farmers’ market a few weeks ago. She rubs it onto Mildred’s shoulders.</p><p>“Oh, precious,” Gwendolyn murmurs, “you’re <i>all</i> in knots; your back must hurt something terrible.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Mildred agrees, eyes closed. “This is helping, though.”</p><p>They stay in the tub until the water grows cool and Mildred begins to shiver. Gwendolyn cups Mildred’s cheek in her hand. “You’re chilled, poor thing,” she says. “Time to get out before you get even sicker.”</p><p>“<i>No</i>,” Mildred whines, holding Gwendolyn in place. “Too tired. Stay…stay…<i>st-ay</i>--” but she cuts herself off with more sneezes, unintentionally proving Gwendolyn’s point.</p><p>Gwendolyn coos as Mildred sniffles. Mildred turns so she’s looking at Gwendolyn, her expression exaggeratedly pathetic. Gwendolyn sighs and fondly rolls her eyes up towards the ceiling. She pulls the plug from the drain and steps out of the tub. She gets a towel for herself and holds out another one for Mildred.</p><p>“Come here, silly girl,” Gwendolyn says.</p><p>Gwendolyn extends her hands and Mildred grabs them. Gwendolyn lifts her into a standing position and guides her onto the bathroom floor. She wraps up Mildred in the towel and rubs her arms to warm them. Mildred sways a bit, as though she’s ready to fall asleep still standing up. She leans forward until her forehead is touching Gwendolyn’s.</p><p>“‘m tired,” Mildred slurs.</p><p>“I know, baby,” Gwendolyn says, swallowing back a quiet laugh. </p><p>Gwendolyn helps Mildred to dress in one of her warmest nightgowns--high-necked and made soft flannel. She sits Mildred on the edge of the bed and pulls a pair of wool socks over her feet. She turns down the covers and guides Mildred until she’s lying beneath them. She’s not nearly so tense, which pleases Gwendolyn, though she’s less pleased to hear the stuffy wheeze behind Mildred’s breaths. </p><p>“I think there might be a sick day in your future, sweets,” Gwendolyn whispers. “You sound <i>so</i> miserable.”</p><p>“‘m fine,” Mildred mumbles. “Just…need…some sleep.”</p><p>Gwendolyn pushes a lock of damp hair back from Mildred’s eyes. “You don’t always have to be fine, my love,” she says gently. “You can tell me how you really feel. That way I can help.”</p><p>Mildred’s nose is red and sore and her eyes are watery. She buries her face in her pillow and grumbles something unintelligible. Gwendolyn rests a hand on the small of Mildred’s back and laughs. “I’m sorry,” she says, “but I didn’t <i>quite</i> catch that.”</p><p>Mildred tilts her face up and huffs an exasperated breath. “I <i>said</i>,” she says, her voice crackly, “that I don’t feel very well at all. There. Are you happy?”</p><p>Gwendolyn kisses Mildred’s temple, which undoubtedly feels a bit feverish now. <i>Definitely no work tomorrow</i>, Gwendolyn decides. <i>Not if</i> I <i>have anything to say about it</i>. She snuggles closer towards Mildred. Mildred sneezes, then makes a mortified little squeak. She tries to roll away from Gwendolyn, but Gwendolyn doesn’t let her.</p><p>“<i>Gwendolyn</i>,” Mildred insists.</p><p>“Mildred.”</p><p>“I need a <i>tissue</i>,” Mildred says, sniffling, a whine in her voice.</p><p>Gwendolyn pulls one from the box on her bedside table and wordlessly holds it to Mildred’s nose. Mildred glares at Gwendolyn. “<i>Honestly</i>,” she mutters. “You’re being ridiculous.”  </p><p>Gwendolyn cocks her head to the side and waits expectantly.</p><p>Mildred rolls her eyes but eventually complies. Gwendolyn tosses the tissue into the wastebasket. Mildred pulls the covers up until all that’s visible is the top of her forehead. “That was <i>revolting</i>,” Mildred groans. “God, I’m so sorry--”</p><p>“Shush,” Gwendolyn says. She pulls the blankets down until she can see Mildred’s face again. </p><p>“You,” Gwendolyn continues, in a tone that leaves no room for disagreement, “are staying home tomorrow.”</p><p>Mildred’s mouth trembles like she’s about to cry. She buries her face in Gwendolyn’s neck. “Gwen,” she whimpers.</p><p>“Yes, love?”</p><p>“My head is aching,” Mildred says, “and my throat, and—and I just…I don’t like being sick at all.” </p><p>There is something broken in Mildred’s admission, something painfully young, and Gwendolyn winces. Gwendolyn wonders how many times Mildred has been sick like this and completely alone. How many times she’s gone without comfort, without kindness, without love. Gwendolyn can nearly feel the way Mildred soaks up every bit of affection she’s offered like a parched sponge, as though she’s afraid it’ll be stolen away from her if she’s not quick enough.    </p><p>Gwendolyn tightens her arms around Mildred. She kisses her on the cheek and cups the nape of her neck. “I’ve got you,” she soothes. “I’m not going anywhere.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was originally only going to be one chapter, but two days ago wildnessbecomesyou (who really deserves writing credit for this chapter along with me) and I were texting about how probably one of the reasons Mildred hates being alone when she's sick so much because she completely and utterly spirals, and then we started coming up with head canons, and now here we are! I hope y'all enjoy the surprise bonus chapter 🥰</p><p>TW for references to child abuse/neglect.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, Mildred wakes to weak winter sunlight streaming in through gauzy white curtains. There is a brief moment of muddled confusion until she’s able to place where she is. She’s been living with Gwendolyn for a few weeks, but her sleeping mind has a tendency to unravel the threads that make up reality’s tapestry. She sits up and the covers fall from her shoulders. She shivers in the chilly morning air. It takes her another few moments to remember why she feels so awful, and a few more after that to realize that she’s completely alone.</p><p>The mattress still holds the shape of Gwendolyn’s body, and in Mildred’s sound, rational mind she knows that Gwendolyn hasn’t been gone long, perhaps only minutes, which means she must intend to return. In Mildred’s sound, rational mind she knows that it’s early still, and Gwendolyn is probably just downstairs fixing herself a cup of coffee. In Mildred’s sound, rational mind she knows she’s not really alone at all, only temporarily by herself, but Mildred is tired, and she’s ill, and her sound, rational mind is not at its full powers. <i>Gwendolyn is gone</i>, a cruel, ugly voice whispers. <i>She’s gone, and she’s gone all because of</i> you, <i>and she’s never, ever going to come back</i>. </p><p>Panic tightens like a band around Mildred’s lungs, and her breath is shallow and rapid. Beads of sweat blossom on her temples and in the hollow of her neck. There’s a faint buzzing in her ears and her hands are trembling. She would like very much to simply disappear, but as that’s an impossibility she instead does the next best thing: she pulls the blankets over her head, makes her body as small as it can be, and she cries. She knows, somewhere in the distant back of her brain, that she’s being decidedly melodramatic, and that Gwendolyn is going to return to find her acting like an overemotional child. But try as she might she can’t make herself stop. The sobs come crashing up on her like waves, until she feels like a ragdoll being tossed helplessly in an unfriendly ocean.</p><p>Over the sound of her own tears Mildred hears soft footsteps in the hallway, then the creak of the bedroom door as it opens. She hears Gwendolyn’s voice, softly humming a song Mildred doesn’t know. </p><p>“Good morning, sleepy--<i>Mildred</i>!”</p><p>There’s a loud crashing sound, glass or porcelain breaking and liquid sloshing onto the floor, that triggers another wave of panicked crying for Mildred. Gwendolyn rushes over to the bed and sits down next to Mildred. She rubs Mildred’s back through the blankets and coos at her.</p><p>“Oh, honey, please, <i>please</i> don’t cry like that,” Gwendolyn begs. “Your poor head is already so congested and this is just going to make everything worse. Can you try and calm down for me? Please, sweetheart?”</p><p>Gwendolyn murmurs soothing words until Mildred’s tears slow and her breath hiccoughs back to a normal rhythm. She’s weak--limp and spent--after the storm has passed. Her head is swimming and it feels much too heavy for her neck. She slowly rolls it upwards until she’s looking at Gwendolyn. She wraps her shaking arms around Gwendolyn’s waist and holds her fiercely. She buries her face in Gwendolyn’s stomach and breathes in her smell.</p><p>“You’re here,” Mildred whispers into the sweetly fragrant fabric of Gwendolyn’s shirt. “You’re <i>here</i>.”</p><p>“Of course I’m here,” Gwendolyn says with a small, bemused laugh. She seems slightly shaken, but pleased that Mildred’s tears have more or less stopped. “Where else would I be?”</p><p>Mildred shifts and sits up so her ear is against Gwendolyn’s chest. She listens to the certain beat of her heart. “Don’t know,” she admits. “You weren’t here and I…I--don’t know. It’s silly, really. Stupid and childish.”</p><p>Gwendolyn pets Mildred’s hair. “Nothing that upsets you that acutely is silly, darling,” she says. “But we don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to.”</p><p>She tries to move, but Mildred tightens her hold on Gwendolyn and whines. “Okay, okay,” Gwendolyn says gently. “A few more minutes like this and then I need to clean up the mess I made when I dropped the tray.”</p><p>Mildred peeks up at Gwendolyn. She chews her bottom lip. “I’m sorry I scared you,” she says. “It’s my fault you dropped it; why don’t I clean it--”</p><p>“No,” Gwendolyn says firmly. “Absolutely not. You are staying right here in bed where you belong.”</p><p>At those words, Mildred separates from Gwendolyn. She falls back against her pillows and huffs her displeasure at Gwendolyn’s edict. “I can’t possibly stay in bed <i>all</i> day,” she mutters.</p><p>“You most certainly <i>can</i>,” Gwendolyn says archly as she gingerly picks up broken pieces of mug. “You’ve run completely out of gas, my love, and you need to <i>rest</i>.”</p><p>Mildred arranges her features into a pout, which usually has the effect of getting her what she wants, at least with regards to Gwendolyn. But in this particular instance Gwendolyn appears to be quite immovable. Mildred’s pout becomes a scowl, and she turns onto her side with a moody sigh.</p><p>Mildred can practically feel Gwendolyn’s smile on her back, which only serves to irritate her further. “Stop laughing at me,” she grumbles, the words muffled by the pillowcase.</p><p>“I’m not laughing at you,” Gwendolyn says mildly. “You’re very grouchy when you’re sick, aren’t you?”</p><p>Mildred sits back up. She crosses her arms over her chest and sets her jaw. She glares at Gwendolyn, who stares back at Mildred with tolerant fondness. “I’m <i>hardly</i> sick,” Mildred snaps. “It’s a cold, if that, and--”</p><p>She’s cut off by a catch in her own throat, which sends her into a bout of rattling, congested coughing. Her chest aches with the force of them; they bend her double until she’s gasping desperately for air. Her eyes water from exertion. She’s faintly aware of Gwendolyn abandoning her task and coming back to the bed so she can hold Mildred with sure, steady hands until the fit passes.</p><p>“I don’t like the sound of that at <i>all</i>,” Gwendolyn murmurs once Mildred has regained her breath. “You might need to see a doctor if it keeps up, Mildred.”</p><p>“No,” Mildred says. Anxiety renders her shrill. “No doctor. I won’t go, I <i>won’t</i>, you can’t make me--”</p><p>“Goodness, Mildred, alright,” Gwendolyn says, more baffled than she is annoyed. “We won’t go to the doctor. That’s fine.”</p><p>Mildred, vaguely embarrassed by her tantrum, feels compelled to explain herself. But her brain, foggy with illness, can only manage to come up with the weakest of excuses. “I just…don’t like the doctor. That’s all.”</p><p>Gwendolyn dumps the broken dishes into the bedroom trash can. “So I gathered,” she says. She goes to the bathroom and retrieves an old washcloth, which she uses to mop up the puddles on the floor. She sighs. “But you’re a <i>nurse</i>, Mildred.”</p><p>Mildred picks at her thumbnail. “I know <i>that</i>,” she says, a bit petulantly. “That doesn’t mean I have to like <i>doctors</i>, though.”</p><p>“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” Gwendolyn admits, but Mildred can tell she’s not wholly satisfied.</p><p>Mildred reaches out towards Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn sets the washcloth down and takes Mildred’s hand. Mildred squeezes, and Gwendolyn squeezes back. Gwendolyn does not demand an answer from Mildred; she waits. She is almost endlessly patient, and that may be the thing Mildred loves about her most of all.</p><p>“When I was a child,” Mildred explains, slowly, haltingly, “illness was seen as…inconvenient, and doctors were expensive. If you got sick you managed it yourself, and if you got so sick that you couldn’t, you were often--often…punished for it. Particularly if a doctor had to be involved.”   </p><p>Gwendolyn looks appalled. “It’s not <i>your</i> fault you were sick,” she says indignantly. “You were a <i>child</i>, for Christ’s sake.”</p><p>Mildred shrugs a single shoulder. She continues picking at her thumbnail until it bleeds and Gwendolyn carefully pulls her hand away. “I don’t know if it was right or not,” Mildred says. She doesn’t meet Gwendolyn’s eyes. “It’s just…how it was.” </p><p>A pained look flashes across Gwendolyn’s face. She leans forward until her forehead touches Mildred’s. “Well,” she says quietly, “it’s not that way anymore.” </p><p>She tucks Mildred back under the covers. She brushes some hair back from Mildred’s eyes. “Rest,” she instructs, “while I try for take two with the coffee and tea.”</p><p>“Tea?” Mildred asks.</p><p>“Mhmm,” Gwendolyn says, smoothing the blankets. “Mint with honey for that nasty cough of yours.”</p><p>Mildred frowns. “But I drink coffee in the morning,” she says.</p><p>“Not this morning,” Gwendolyn says, teasing and tart simultaneously.</p><p>“But--”</p><p>“No <i>buts</i>,” Gwendolyn says. The corners of her mouth twitch. “Who’s the nurse today--you or me?”</p><p>“<i>Me</i>,” Mildred grouses. </p><p>Gwendolyn smiles. </p><p>The tea <i>is</i> helpful, though, Mildred is willing to grudgingly admit. It thins the congestion in her head and chest and makes her lungs feel not quite so tight. Mint and honey is initially an odd combination, but the cool notes of the mint balance out the cloying sweetness of the honey, and vice versa. Mildred finds that she rather likes it. She chooses not to mention this to Gwendolyn.</p><p>Mildred is equally reluctant when Gwendolyn suggests Vapo-Rub for her chest. The sharply pungent odor triggers a sneezing fit and makes her eyes water. She does not altogether mind, however, Gwendolyn’s cool hands methodically rubbing the paste onto her breastbone, and the warm, damp compress Gwendolyn adds on top of it is almost heavenly. </p><p>Mildred <i>is</i> willing to admit that she quite enjoys the makeshift humidifier Gwendolyn creates using a large bowl and a rag, particularly when she adds drops of eucalyptus oil to the steamy water. She’s additionally fond of the way her nose doesn’t hurt so terribly when Gwendolyn puts a bit of Vaseline around the edges of her nostrils. It’s a bit mortifying to be babied in this way; usually when Mildred is sick she carries on as normal and avoids anyone who might notice that there’s anything wrong. She waits nervously for Gwendolyn to confirm that Mildred really is as contagious, and pathetic, and disgusting as she thinks she must be. But the accusation never comes. Gwendolyn seems to be almost <i>enjoying</i> herself, and Mildred is positively mystified.    </p><p>Once her caretaking tasks are complete, Gwendolyn joins Mildred in bed while she sips her coffee. She positions herself on top of the blankets, legs crossed at the ankles, and reads the front page of the newspaper aloud. Mildred leans her heavy head against Gwendolyn’s shoulder and slowly drinks her tea. She breathes through her open mouth between swallows until she senses Gwendolyn’s eyes on her. She blushes.</p><p>“Am I making too much noise?” Mildred asks.</p><p>Gwendolyn graces her fingers over the apple of Mildred’s cheek. “How are you feeling?” she asks.</p><p>“Fine,” Mildred says quickly. “Perfectly fine.”</p><p>Gwendolyn raises her right eyebrow. “Are you really?” </p><p>Mildred rolls her eyes and winces when it makes her head throb. “Well, I’m not <i>fine</i>,” she says, “but I’ll <i>live</i>, certainly.”</p><p>“That’s not what I asked,” Gwendolyn says, softly and sadly, after a moment.</p><p>Mildred fidgets uncomfortably. “I’m…sick,” she finally allows. “I feel the way you do when you’re sick. I’m not sure what else I’m meant to say, Gwendolyn.”</p><p>An expression Mildred can’t read passes over Gwendolyn’s face. “Alright,” Gwendolyn eventually says. She folds her newspaper and sets it aside. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I have a bit of work I need to do, and once I’m finished with that and you’re awake it’ll be time for some lunch.”</p><p>Mildred nods and yawns hugely, then immediately claps an embarrassed palm over her mouth. Gwendolyn giggles. She kisses Mildred on the forehead. She turns off the bedside table lamps, but keeps the hall light on and the door cracked when she leaves the room.</p><p>Mildred’s limbs feel as though they’ve been weighted down with bags of sand. Moving is like trying to swim through syrup. Her entire body aches. The world is runny and distorted, like it exists on the other side of a hand blown glass. She’s suddenly so tired that she can’t hold onto a thought for more than a few seconds; they slip away from her like strands of gossamer silk. <i>Milky tired</i>, Mildred thinks, and she knows that it’s true. She closes her eyes. </p><p>When she next opens them, she’s not sure if seconds or hours have passed. It could be either, and perhaps even both at once. She bolts up in a panic. Her nightgown is damp with sweat, but she’s shivering. She had a bad dream, she knows she did, she can still feel it moving sluggishly through her veins like poison. Her heart is racing, and a lancing pain accompanies each frantic beat. She starts to cough, and then she cannot stop; she can’t catch her breath, and she’s going to suffocate right here, alone in Gwendolyn’s bed.</p><p>Teeth chattering, still coughing, Mildred drags herself out of bed. She needs water, and the glass on her bedside table is empty. She staggers across the bedroom. She makes it not quite halfway to the bathroom before congestion and lack of oxygen make her lightheaded. She doesn’t faint, not exactly, but her legs crumple and fold beneath her. She’s just floated down to the floor when Gwendolyn appears in the doorway.</p><p>“Mildred!” Gwendolyn shrieks. </p><p>She rushes over to scoop Mildred up, then half-carries and half-supports the smaller woman back to bed. “Baby, what were you trying to <i>do</i>?” Gwendolyn frets. She palms Mildred’s forehead and immediately pulls back from the heat it radiates. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re burning up with fever.”</p><p>“Water,” Mildred manages to croak. “Needed water, but got…” she trails off and whirls her finger in weak circles when she can’t come up with the word <i>dizzy</i>.</p><p>This doesn’t seem to help Gwendolyn’s alarm. Her hands are trembling as she runs them through Mildred’s hair. “I’ll get you your water,” she murmurs. </p><p>Mildred attempts to sit up. “I can…” she tries, but Gwendolyn pins her gently to the bed.</p><p>“Don’t you <i>dare</i>,” Gwendolyn says, the sternness in her tone not quite masking her agitation.</p><p>She picks up the glass from the floor, which luckily did not break when Mildred fell, and takes it into the bathroom. Mildred doesn’t know if it’s Gwendolyn’s temporary absence, or the dream she can’t quite recall, or the adrenaline from the coughing fit, or perhaps all three, but all at once she is dissolving into tears for the second time that day.</p><p>The faucet stops running. Gwendolyn makes concerned noises when she returns and sees that Mildred is crying again. If Mildred had the energy to be embarrassed she might be, but in this moment it is such a heady relief to let go of it all, even briefly. Gwendolyn’s arms go around her, and Mildred turns into Gwendolyn’s warmth and lets herself come undone. Gwendolyn rocks her as she weeps. The bed is an island, and they are out in the middle of a calm sea, just the two of them. Nothing can touch them here. </p><p>“Do you want to talk about where you went?” Gwendolyn murmurs once Mildred has calmed herself down.</p><p>Mildred starts to shake her head, but midway through the motion changes, and she nods instead. She and Gwendolyn lie back and Mildred tucks herself under Gwendolyn’s chin. She rubs the collar of Gwendolyn’s shirt between her fingers like a comfort blanket. She takes a deep, shuddering breath as she tries to decide where to begin.</p><p>“One winter when I was very young,” Mildred says, “maybe eight years old, I got sick. Which wasn’t unusual, of course children get sick, and at first it wasn’t any different than any of the other colds and coughs I’d had in the past. But…after a--a point, instead of getting better, I just…got sicker. And then sicker still.”</p><p>She grabs at Gwendolyn’s clothes like she’s scrabbling for purchase at the edge of a cliff. “The foster parents I was with at the time they didn’t--they were…especially cruel. They, you know, would…would hit us, or send us to bed without supper, which lots of other parents did, but these parents, they…they never needed a <i>reason</i>. So when they <i>did</i> have a reason it was infinitely worse. And I was terrified to give them one.”</p><p>“What happened?” Gwendolyn whispers, her voice nearly inaudible.</p><p>Mildred presses herself into Gwendolyn’s side. “I had pneumonia,” she says dully, “in both lungs. They ended up having to take me to the hospital; my fever was nearly 105. I--I don’t remember much after that, really. I do know that the doctor said I was lucky to be alive, which was…vindicating, somehow. That I hadn’t been making it up or exaggerating after all.” </p><p>She sighs. “Anyway,” she says, “the worst part, really, is that it left me with weak lungs, which explains, you know…” she trails off, gesturing vaguely at her entire self. “This. And sometimes when I’m sick I…remember <i>then</i>, and it’s all a bit--a bit discombobulating. Disorienting. Like I’m…there, and not here.”    </p><p>Gwendolyn is silent for so long after Mildred finishes speaking that small curls of alarm begin to bloom in Mildred’s stomach. “What is it?” Mildred asks. “Are you angry with me?”</p><p>Gwendolyn tucks a lock of hair behind Mildred’s ear. “No,” she says quietly, “I’m not angry with you.”</p><p>Mildred hesitates. “But…you are angry.”</p><p>Gwendolyn considers this for a while. “I am angry,” she says at last, “but not at you. I’m angry at all of the people who did this to you.” </p><p>Mildred blinks at Gwendolyn, who cocks her head to the side. “What?” Gwendolyn asks. “What is it?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Mildred says. “Nothing at all.”</p><p>She’s not sure, precisely, how she could explain it without coming off histrionic. <i>It’s never occurred to me that someone would ever be angry on my behalf</i>. It sounds ridiculous, no matter how true it may be. Maybe someday--hopeful butterflies explode in Mildred’s stomach at the possibility of there being a <i>someday</i>--she’ll be able to tell Gwendolyn this, but not today. Not now. Right now she’s exhausted, and she’s ill, and words are marble heavy as they rest on her tongue. Right now all she wants is to be held. </p><p>Gwendolyn runs feather-light fingers over Mildred’s forehead, eyelids, lips. Mildred can feel the tether holding her to wakefulness beginning to tear. “Just let go, baby,” Gwendolyn murmurs. “You’re safe. I’m here, and you’re safe.”</p><p>Something hard and frozen deep inside Mildred begins to thaw. Gwendolyn brought her medicine and tucked her into bed. Gwendolyn made her tea and watched her finish the entire mug. Here, now, she has Gwendolyn’s arms cradling her body; here, now, she has Gwendolyn’s warm breath on her neck. Here, now, Gwendolyn is telling her that she is safe. Mildred isn’t certain she knows what that word even means, but she’s willing to learn. She closes her eyes. She’s a comet, spinning dizzily into sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The final paragraph is loosely inspired by the poem "Here and Now" by Sarah Kay, which is beautiful, and you can read <a href="https://ohsarahkay.tumblr.com/post/109892220373/here-and-now-i-have-only-these-hands-this=%22nofollow%22"> here. </a></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if you have any requests, feel free to leave 'em here or drop me a line on tumblr @ anneofgreengaybles 🥰</p></blockquote></div></div>
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